B X 

.3^ 



f 



t LIBKARY OF C ).\Gl!ESS. 




{UNITED .STATI'S OF AMERICA.} 



4 



THE EMTGEANTS QUEST. Front. 



THE 



EMIGRANT'S QUEST; 

OB, 

"Is It Our Own Church?" 

M. E. BEAUCHAMP. 



" Thy holy Chnrch— the Church of God, 

That hath grown old in thee, — 
****** 

At least that holy Church is mine ! 

And every hallowed day, 
I bend where England's anthems swell, 

And hear old England pray : 
And England's old adoring rites, 

And old lituigic words, 
Are mine— but not for England's sake ; 

I love them as the Lord's." 




general PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SUNDAY SCHOOL 
UNION AND CHURCH BOOK SOCIETY, 
762 BROADWAY. 



1867. 




TO THE 

EEV. JOSEPH M. CLAKKE, D. D., 

THIS LITTLE BOOK, 
UNDERTAKEN AT HIS SUGGESTION, 
IS MOST RESPECTFULLY LVSCRIBED, 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by the 

Gen. Prot. Episc. S. S. Union and Church Book Societt, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, 
for the Southern District of New York. 



Smith & McDougal, Stereotypers. C. A. Alvokd, Printer. 



I> XJ B L I S H E D 



BY THE 

SUNDAY SCHOOL OFFERINGS 

OP 

ST. JAMES' CHURCH, 

Syracuise, 

AND 

ST. JAMAIS' CHU^CITy 

Skaneateles, 



"Western 3N". Y. 



PREFACE. 



A VALUED friend said to me, "I Tvisli you 
would write a book showing tlie points in 
which the American Church differs from that 
of England." This httle volume is the result 
of my attempt to comply with this request. 

The slight frame-work of narrative is noth- 
ing more than a means of displaying readily 
and naturally the manner in which various 
matters connected with our Church would 
strike an ordinarily intelligent emigrant, and 
as, at the time of writing it, I had recently 
returned from a visit of a year and a haK in 
England, I was more likely to perceive and 
feel the differences between the sister com- 
munions than might otherwise have been the 
case. 

M. E. B. 



THE GENERAL PEOTESTANT EriSCOPAL SUNDAY SCHOOL 
UNION AND CHUPvCH BOOK SOCIETY was organized at a meeting 
of the General Convention and others, in November, 1826, for the pur- 
pose of providing approved books for Church Sunday School Libraries, 
and approved books of Instruction for Church Sunday Schools. 

This Society consists of the Bishops of the Protestant Episcopal 
Church, of the Clergy of the same, of the Lay Deputies of the General 
Convention, and all other members of the Chm-ch who shall contribute 
not less than One Dollar annually to its funds. 

Every member of the Church who contributes Thirty Dollars in one 
I>ayment, is a Life Member; one who contributes Fifty Dollars at one 
time, is an Honorary Manager ; one who contributes One Hundred Dol- 
lars in on*) payment, is a Patron of the Society. 

Every Life Member is entitled to Two Dollars' worth of Books ; every 
Honorary Manager to Three and a Half Dollars' worth ; every Patron to 
Seven Dollars' worth of Books. The Books must be drawn each year, 
as arrearages are not allowed to accumulate. 

Meetings are held triennially, during the session of the General Con- 
vention. 

The Board of Managers consists of all the Bishops, and one hundred 
members elected triennially by the Society. 

The Executive Committee consists of all the Bishops, and twelve Cler- 
ical and twelve Lay members, elected annually by the Board of Mana- 
gers, who, together with the Secretary, Editor, and Treasurer, ex officio^ 
conduct the business of the Society. 

The Union publishes Sunday School and Parish Library Books, Cards, 
Tracts, Books of Family and Private Devotion, Sunday School Requi- 
sites and Books of Instruction : also the Cuildren's Magazine and 
Children's Guest. Depository, No. 762 Broadway, New York. 

The Annual Me^^ting of the Board of Managers Is held in October, at 
the time of the meeting of the Board of Missions. 

FORM OF BEQUEST. 
I give and bequeath to " ST^e (iJctieial ^rotcstant Episcopal .^un. 
liag 5cf)ool SLntoii antj kTi^urcf) 33aok ^octets," organized in the city 
of Philadelphia, in the year of our Lord 1S26, and incorporated by th*^ 
Legislature of the State of New York, April 16, 1854, the sum of 

Dollars, to be applied to the uses and purposes of said Society . 



SOLIOITATIOIfS. 



Every Churchman, and every Churchwoman 
tlironghout the United States and the Canadas, is 
solicited to become a member of this Society, either 
by annual subscription, or by being made a Life 
Member, or an Honorary Member, or a Patron. 
Payment may be made to the Agent, E. M. Duncan, 
or sent, addressed to the Treasurer, E. Haight, Esq.. 
No. 162 Broadway, IS". Y. 

For terms of Membership, see preceding page. 




CHAPTEE I. 

mXRODUCTOEY. 

Y father was a surgeon, residing in 
the pleasant little English village 
of Croscombe, of which he had the 
entire medical practice. This had 
been considerable enough to enable him to 
live, in much comfort, in one of the best 
houses of the place, and to bring up a large 
family very respectably. This, however, 
was nearly all. There had been little laid 
by, and it caused some perplexity when, our 
school-days being over, it seemed necessary 
to plan out our future — to know what to do 
with us all. 

My eldest brother was destined to be my 
father's assistant, and ultimate successor, in 
his business, and the next eldest had been of- 
fered a place in the counting-house of a distant 




10 



THE EMIGEANT'S" QUEST. 



relative. I wisked to be articled to an attor- 
ney, but my father shook his head. He did 
not like the profession^ and besides, he conld 
not aflbrd the premium ; I must decide on 
something eke. But as nothing else olfered 
any attractions to my mind, and my father 
did not meet with any opportunity of placing 
me out to his own satisfaction, I was allowed 
to make my home with an uncle, who farmed 
a portion of a large estate in the neighbor- 
hood, till I had acquired a decided taste for 
agricultural pursuits. 

My father fretted at my waste of time ; 
but, as nothing better offered, was the more 
easily satisfied with my being sufficiently 
employed to be kept out of harm's way, and 
when at length I had determined on follow- 
ing my uncle's example in the choice of an 
avocation, he gave a not very reluctant 
assent. 

At the age of twenty- four I was married, 
and settled on a farm,' which my father had 
assisted me in renting, and which I looked 
upon as my home for life. Strong local at- 
tachments are perhaps more common to the 
English than to Americans, and to this hour 
I cannot think without tears of the long, 
low-browed farm-house, in which my children 



INTRODUCTORY. 



II 



first saw the light. It was a very homely 
building — at least my readers would think it 
so — though we thought it a very substantial 
and respectable abode. It might hare been 
two hundred years old, and houses were not 
built in the modern style two centuries ago. 

Each of the three gables of the front con- 
tained a window, half hidden in the project- 
ing thatch. These windows were casements 
(there was not a sash-window in the house), 
and were made of very small, diamond- 
shaped panes of glass, set in frames of lead. 
The rooms were large and low. The parlor 
was not seven feet high, and it had a large, 
square beam running across the ceiling, 
which must have taken eight or ten inches 
from even this height. This was the only 
room in the house that boasted of a carpet 
and mahogany furniture. The floors were 
of stone in the lower rooms, but in the upper 
apartments they were of wood, kept marvel- 
lously clean and white by frequent scrubbing. 
Everything about the farm-house at Way- 
wick, always seemed as clean as hands could 
make it, and the very air seemed purer 
within its walls than elsewhere. 

My wife was a nice little woman ; a farm- 
er's daughter, who had passed through the 



12 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



ordeal of a year and a half at boarding- 
school, without losing her relish for domestic 
duties. I never found but that her dairy 
was just as well managed as if she had never 
touched a piano, or filled a drawing-book; 
and certainly the gorgeous ottoman covers, 
that adorned our parlor, had not monopo- 
lized any of the finger-skill requisite for mak- 
ing shirts and darning stockings. 

Many, very many happy years passed by, 
as we dwelt in Waywick. Children were 
born to us, and friends increased about us. 
It seemed as if we had taken root in the land, 
and we thankfully felt that the lines had fal- 
len to us in pleasant places — that ours was 
indeed a goodly heritage. But a change was 
at hand. Nothing very alarming was to hap- 
pen, and yet the whole course of our lives was 
to be turned out of its present channel. In- 
stead of pursuing the even tenor of our way 
in our peaceful and quiet home, the violent 
shock of being torn away from its familiar 
loveliness, the shock of removal and emigra- 
tion, was before us. 

Our farm was life-hold property, and, as 
one of the lives had lately dropped, I went 
to my landlord to negotiate the terms of hav- 
ing a new life put in ; but, to my constema- 



IXTF.ODUCTORY. 



13 



tion, Mr. Langton declined renewing on any 
terms. He wished to have the estate in his 
own hands, and should allow the leases to run 
out. 

" But that need not trouble yoUj Grey," 
said he, seeing me look very blank, " the farm 
may be yours for years yet. There are still 
two good lives upon it ; lives as good as 
yours or mine may be." 

I felt very little cheered, for I knew that 
old Ruth Perry had been ailing unusually of 
late, and Mark Elwood (the other life), was 
a dissolute young fellow, whose health was 
already beginning to break. So it was in a 
somewhat moody state, that I plodded home- 
wards. It was early in December, and as I 
rode along, I heard the faint, sweet voices of 
distant bells from the surrounding parishes, 
reminding me that the season of Advent had 
begun, and that the bell-ringers were " ring- 
ing in Christmas." How clear and silvery 
the hallelujahs of those sacred bells. 

" From bin to hill, like sentinels, 
Responsively they cry." 

I little thought at the time, that I should 
never again hear those sweet chimes filling 
the air with their " melodious jangling," and 
welcoming a Saviour's birth. 



14 



THE EMIGRANT'S QUE-ST. 



It was with new interest, that we sent the 
next day to inquire after the health of Dame 
Perry, and the answer that she was failing, 
and that ^' the parson came to see her every 
day," did not tend to raise our spirits. 

But there is no necessity for going into de- 
tails. Suffice it to say, that before the next 
midsummer our farm had reverted to our 
landlord, and we had resolved on emigrating 
to the United States of America. 



CHAPTEE II. 



FIEST SriTDAY IN AMERICA. 

PASS over the painful seasons of 
leave-taking and removal, with all 
their sad accompaniments. The 
disruption of nearly all the ties 
that bound us to the earth and to our race, 
vras included in the necsesary pains of exile. 
Our parents — our friends — our home ; — the 
church in v^hich we had been sprinkled with 
pure water in our infancy, in which we had 
plighted the vows of wedlock, in which we 
had statedly worshipped the God of our fa- 
thers, and in which we had presented our 
little ones to the Lord — the church-yard, 
where, in the shadow of the great yew-tree, 
slept our fore-fathers for many generations, 
and where our own dear parents would lay 
them down to rest when their summons 
should come — all must be left, and perhaps 
to be seen by us no more forever ! 

What wonder that our hearts were heavy, 




16 



THE EMIGRANT'S QUEST. 



and that we would have been willing, but for 
incurring thereby the charge of fickleness, to 
give up our plans for a trans-atlantic home, 
and to remain contentedly in the land in 
which God had placed us. 

But, passing over all these topics, I pro- 
ceed with my narrative from the date of our 
landing in New York, early in September. 
We were fortunate enough to secure a very 
pleasant boarding-place, at which the family 
were to remain for a few days, while I went 
up the river, to see a part of the country 
which had been recommended to me as very 
healthy, and particularly rich in farming 
lands. 

" To-morrow will be Sunday," said my wife, 
as we sat around the tea-table in the evening. 
" I wonder if the parish church is near at 
hand? The sea-sickness has left me so Vvcak, 
that I am hardly equal to a long walk." 

I inquired of our hostess, who seemed 
much puzzled by the inquiry. She belonged 
to the Dutch Keformed Church, she said, 
and obligingly directed me where to find it. 
" But perhaps you'd rather go to the Episco- 
pal or the Methodist," she continued; "Eng- 
lish people generally go to one or the other." 

I thanked her, and felt somewhat puzzled 



FIRST SUNDAY IN AMERICA. 17 



in my turn. I knew very little of the re- 
ligious state of the country, excepting that I 
had always understood that all the bodies of 
Christians to be found in England, were rep- 
resented here ; and of course, I expected to 
find the English Church prominent among 
them. I hesitated a little, before asking if an 
English Prayer-book would do to use. 

" Oh yes, I guess so ; " replied the good 
lady. "I don't know much about the Epis- 
copalians, but they use Prayer-books ; I know 
that much." And hereupon Mrs Ten-Eyck 
proceeded to direct me to the nearest Episco- 
pal church. 

My wife, though enfeebled by sea-sickness, 
and still dizzy from the motion of the ship, 
resolved to accompany me, though the walk 
was not a short one. We left the children 
under the care of Edward, their eldest 
brother, and when the bells struck up on 
Sunday morning we sat ofl' to find a place 
in which to worship. 

It was a very handsome edifice which we 
entered, but, though of Gothic architecture, 
it was hardly church-like. There was too 
much of upholstery, perlmps ; certainly the 
decorations were too obtrusively rich and 
gaudy to harmonize with one's idea of the 



18 



THE EMIGRANT'S QUEST. 



solemnity of a lioly place. Nor did the 
gathering congregation bear altogether the 
aspect of a worshipping assembly : jewels 
glittered and fans fluttered in every direc- 
tion, and the gaily dressed young ladies, who 
came sailing up the alleys of the church, 
might have been entering a concert-room, for 
all that their deportment testified of reveren- 
tial feeling. Some were even whispering 
and giggling together till after they had 
taken their places in the richly-cushioned 
pews, and their indecorum (to call it by no 
worse a name) annoyed me so much that I 
found it difficult to keep my mind employed 
in a manner suitable to the time and place, 
till the commencement of the service claimed 
my full attention. 

As we left the church, my wife exclaimed : 
" How delightful ! It seems like being at 
home, to go to church again." 

" And I never felt less at home in my 
life," said I, a little out of humor with my- 
self ; " somehow it did not seem like a church 
to me." 

" No," rejoined my wife, " I don't tliink it 
can be a parish church. It looked more like 
a chapel of ease — a proprietary chapel I 
mean — and I should not wonder if it was 



FIKST SUNDAY IN AMERICA. 



19 



one. There were no poor people there, you 
knov/, and they had four or five persons to 
do all the singing, just as they used to in Mr. 
Ashley's chapel in London. But then, after 
all, there was the dear old service, and a 
good sermon, and it seems pleasant to find 
one's own Church in a strange land." 

" Very true," said I ; but in mj heart 
there was an unexpressed doubt w^hether this 
should prove to be ou?' own Church after all. 

On this point, however, I resolved to keep 
my doubts to myself, till I had had time and 
opportunity to form a fair opinion ; and, 
taking the two elder children with me, went 

in the evening to church, whose 

chimes had attracted my attention in the 
morning. 

The congregation was composed of very 
different materials from that in which I had 
found myself in the morning. There was a 
much larger proportion of men, and there 
w^as less of finery and display to offend the 
eye, but I could not say that there was much 
more to indicate an assemblage of worship- 
pers. There was quietness, but not the still- 
ness of reverence, and many of those in our 
immediate vicinity seemed to have come out 
of mere curiosity, and to be more engaged in 



20 



THE E3IIGKAXT's QUEST. 



looking at the build ing, than in thinking of 
the uses for which it was designed. 

As the service commenced, however, and 
the full, varied responses rose from all parts 
of the noble edifice, I forgot for a while that 
there was anything uncongenial in the con- 
gregation, and only felt a little annoyed, when 
a man, who sat nearest the wall in our seat, 
pushed by us all to leave the church, just as 
we were about to kneel for the prayers after 
the Creed. 

Many of those around us sat during the 
entire service. Some did not use their 
Prayer-books at all ; others opened them, 
but did not join in the service. We were 
glad to avail ourselves of the books with 
which the seat was supplied, as I had foand, 
by my morning's experience, that our Eng- 
lish books differed sufficiently from the Ame- 
rican to make it unsafe for us to join audibly 
in the services. As we were early, we occu- 
pied ourselves in noting these differences be- 
fore the service commenced. 

As in the morning, we had an excellent 
sermon, and I was inclined to suspect then, 
what I afterwards found to be the case, that 
the American clergy are, in general, better 
pulpit-orators than their English brethren. 



FIRST SUNDAY IN AMERICA. 21 

They are more animated, and have less man- 
nerism. Their sermons are usually more elab- 
orate than I had been in the habit of hearing ; 
less simple and practical, but with more 
depth of thought and originality of expres- 
sion. 

It was late w^hen we reached home, and we 
were too tired to talk over what we had seen 
and heard ; only Jenny said, as she took off 
her bonnet : 

" Mother, they did not sing the Evening 
Hymn to-night." 

" I have been in some churches where they 
do not," replied her mother ; " but we will 
have it now, before we part for the night." 

So hearts and voices joined in the earnest 
hymn of good Bishop Ken, w^hich had con- 
cluded the evening service in the parish of 
Croscombe ever since I could remember, and 
peacefully we went to our slumbers, with its 
holy strains still soothing our minds. 



CHAPTEE III. 




OUR NEIGHBOES IN THE COrNTRY. 

HE next fortniglit was spent by me 
at a distance from my family ; nor 
was it till I had settled on a future 
home for them, that I returned to 
l^ew York. 

I rejoined them in very good spirits, for I 
had bought an excellent farm, at a bargain, of 
a young man who had just inherited it from 
his fether, and was in haste to turn it into 
cash, with which he proposed to buy a farm 
of six times the size, in Wisconsin or Iowa. 
I had never before estimated the importance 
of ready money. I was not a rich man, but 
my property was, I found, greatly increased 
by having been converted into the circulating 
medium. But for having it in my power to 
pay down the sum demanded, I could not 
have purchased this property for three times 
the price now asked for it, which is the same 
as saying that it would have been hopelessly 
out of my reach. 



OUR liTEIGHBORS IN THE COUOTEY. 23 



It was a pleasant, and, as I was informed, 
a very liealthy spot. There were several 
neighbors, and a school-house within a mile ; 
and a village, only four miles distant, was 
well supplied with places of worship, amongst 
which was an Episcopal church, 

I need not say that we were delighted at 
being settled. After the discomforts of a 
sea-voyage, and a crowded New York board- 
ing-house, any kind of a home would have 
been welcomed, and the change from our 
confined apartments in the city to the large, 
airy farm-house, was charming. The little 
ones seemed almost crazy over their recov- 
ered freedom, and my wife heaved a sigh of 
relief, as she unpacked the chests, in which 
she was no longer obliged to find room for 
all the clothing of the family. 

" God has been very good to us, my 
dears," she said occasionally, as the children 
came running to her, with noisy exclama- 
tions of delight. " God has been very good 
to us, and I trust that lie will bless us in 
this new home of ours." 

I knew that she was comparing it, in her 
own mind, with Waywick. 

" Waywick was better than this, my dear," 
said Ij " but you must remember that there 



24 



THE emigrant's QL'EST. 



"we were only tenants, while this place is our 
own." 

" Yes, Edward ; that is just what I was 
thinking. If it pleases God to give us health, 
we may be very happy here." 

Before we were fairly settled in onr new 
home, the neighbors began to call upon ns. 
First came a Mrs. Hibbard, onr nearest 
neighbor on the right hand. She and her 
husband were English, and had been in the 
States but a few years. 

" Seeing as yon was from the old country," 
said she to my wife, I thought I'd make 
bold to call pretty early, that I might help a 
little about getting things to rights. But 
seems to me it's all done. You look as if 
you'd been settled here a year. Ah ! it's a 
terrible piece of work, this moving with a 
family ! Nobody knows what 'tis like but 
them as have tried it." 

" I have found it a great trial," said my 
wife, but I hope the worst is now over, and 
we shall begin to feel settled again." 

" IsOy ma'am, the worst is not over yet ; 
you'll be homesick for a year to come, and 
wish yourself back in the old country twenty 
times a day. Sometimes it'll seem to you as 
if you would die to see your home again. 



OUR NEIGHBORS 1^ THE COrNTRY. 25 



Ah ! I know wliat it is, for I've been through 
it, and nobody knows, but them as has tried, 
what a dreary, heart-sick time it is, when a 
poor woman has to make her home among 
strangers." 

" But," said my wife, a little dismayed, 
" you like America now, don't you, Mrs. 
Hibbard ?" 

" Bless you, yes, that I do. I wouldn't 
go back now, unless 'twere just for a yisit. 
Where one's family is, is a woman's home ; 
and we soon get to be fond of our home, 
wherever it is." 

" And this is a pleasant neighborhood," 
said my wife. 

'Tis very pleasant, and you've a good 
farm. We've good neighbors, too, as any- 
body could wish to have. Eight opposite from 
us is Deacon Warner's house. They're Bap- 
tists, you know, and they are downright good 
folks too. Mrs. Warner is one of the sort 
that's so good in sickness. My youngest girl 
had the fever pretty bad, when we first come 
here ; and Mrs. Warner nursed her up, and did 
her more good than the doctor. Then there 
is Squire Bowen. He lives ofi* next house 
but one, the other side of you. He's Episco- 
pal ; but I believe he's a real good man. He 
3 



26 



THE EMIGKANT'3 QUEST. 



brouglit ITS a load of firewood, tlie first win- 
ter we was here, when we was pretty badly 
off." 

" I suppose, then, yon are not an Episco- 
palian," said my wife, somewhat amused at 
the tone of her visitor. 

" No, indeed ! Be you ?" 

" I suppose so, if the Episcopal Church is 
the same as the Church of England." 

" Well," remarked Mrs. Hibbard, patron- 
izingly ; " I hain't got nothing to say against 
Church people. I believe there's good and 
bad in all, and a good Churchman '11 be 
saved just as soon as a good Methodist. I 
ain't noways uncharitable. Some folks think 
no one can be saved unless he is of their 
way of thinking, but I ain't one of that kind ; 
I believe in charity." 

" If charity consists in believing that peo- 
ple will be saved," said I, " it seems to me 
that it cannot be perfect unless we believe 
that all men will be saved." 

" Why not, Mr. Grey ? That would be 
going clear against the Scriptures." 

" Why, Mrs. Hibbard, we ought to have 
charity for all mankind, and so we must (if 
your test of charity is correct) believe that all 



OUB NEIGHBORS IIST THE COUNTRY. 



27 



will be saved, whicli, as you justly observe, 
is contrary to the Scriptures." 

" Well, now," said Mrs. Hibbard, " I de- 
clare, that never struck me before. But what 
is charity, then ?" 

" I don't think it has so much to do with 
our belief as with our feelings and actions," 
I replied. " I may, for instance, believe a 
man to be very wicked, and yet not be un- 
charitable." 

" No," responded Mrs. Hibbard, half as- 
sent ingly, half inquiringly ; " we can't help 
believing some people are bad, when we 
know it, I suppose." 

" And yet," continued I, " we may be full 
of charity towards those we believe to be 
bad, if we love them, and try to do them 
good." 

" Well, that's queer," said Mrs. Hibbard ; 
" but, after all, I don't know but you're 
about right." 

" But," interposed my wife, " we are inter- 
rupting Mrs. Hibbard's account of our neigh- 
bors, and I am very much interested in hear- 
ing all I can about them." 

" Let me see," resumed Mrs. Hibbard ; 
" Deacon Warner's people, and Squire Bow- 
en's — then there is Colonel Adams, lives 



28 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



right opposite to Squire Bowen's. They're 
gay sort of folks, at least the young ones are, 
and they don't profess much in the way of 
religion. Sometimes they go to the Presby- 
terian meeting, and sometimes to the Episco- 
pal — -just as happens. Guess they don't get 
much good any^\^heres. Oh ! I forgot to tell 
you that the Aliens live in that little brown 
house between yours and the Squire's. Jim 
Allen is a poor drunken coot, and his wife 
has to manage every thing, in-doors and out. 
She was brought up amongst the Universal- 
ists, and never goes anyAvhere herself, nor 
will let the children, so they're growing up a 
set of little heathens. They're the worst 
neighbors about here, Mrs. Grey, and as you 
have to live next house to them, you may be 
thankful that your houses are a good way 
apart." 

" I wish they were farther off, however," 
said my wife. " But, perhaps, they won't 
trouble us." 

" Then, just round the corner, by the 
school-house," resumed our visitor, " there's 
a very pretty, tasty place. That's where 
Jacob Barker lives. They're good neigh- 
bors, I can tell you, Mrs. Grey ; and I know 
you'll be pleased with Mrs. Barker. I've 



OUR NEIGHBORS IN THE COUNTRY. 29 



washed for her two or three times, so I know 
something about her kind, pleasant ways. 
They are Quakers, and so are the next 
neighbors — the Priors ; but the Barkers are 
Orthodox, and the Priors are Hicksites — so 
they don't fellowship, you see. Then, there's 
Squire Everett's folks — they're Presbyterians. 
There's a large family, and they're pretty 
strait-laced at home, but folks say as they're 
the wildest youngsters round when they get 
out of sight of their father and mother. 
Then, I'd almost forgot Elder Carter, and he 
wouldn't like to be forgot neither ; for, go 
where he may, he always thinks himself the 
biggest frog in the puddle. But we've all 
our failings, and I suppose that's his. He's 
a kind of leader among the Congregational- 
ists (the same as what they call Indepen- 
dents in the old country), and that's why 
they call him elder. There's another Elder 
Carter about here, but he's a Free Will Bap- 
tist, and we don't reckon him among the 
neighbors, because he lives on the upper 
road. Folks generally call him Elder Ama- 
sa, and our Elder Carter is Elder Ebenezer. 
The Fitzgeralds live in a little tenant-house 
of his. They're Irish, you know, and Cath- 
olics, — poor, ignorant creatures, but not as 



30 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



bad as might be. They're sober and indus- 
trious, thougli folks give tliem the character 
of looking out pretty well for their own side. 
Take it altogether, Mrs. Grey, you might 
have worse neighbors than you have. If 
two or three are not quite up to the mark, 
some of the others are good enough to make 
all even." 

"Did you ever hear anything like it?" 
said my wife, when our loquacious, but kind- 
hearted neighbor had taken her departure. 
" Eight or ten different religious bodies re- 
presented by the settlers in a little country 
neighborhood !" 



CHAPTEE ly. 



DIFFERENCE IN CHURCH USAGES. 

HANKSGIYING-DAY had come, 
and, like my neighbors, I " har- 
nessed np," and took my family to 
the village, to join in the religious 
services of the day. 

Our little church was not very full, but 
there was a tolerable congregation, though 
consisting more of the villagers than of the 
agricultural population, for whom the ser- 
vices of the day seemed particularly de- 
signed. It was the first time I had ever 
joined in a service of this kind, and I 
was extremely well pleased with every part 
of it. The opening sentences, the lessons, 
the hymns — everything about it, in short, 
was so strikingly appropriate, that I could 
not imagine in what manner any part of it 
could be altered for the better. 

AVe were talking it over, after returning 
home. 




32 



THE EMIGEAXT's QrEST. 



" The service is not in our old Prayer- 
books," said Edward. 

" And the Restoration, and Accession, and 
Gunpowder Plot are not in onr new ones," 
said Jane. " Why are they all left out ?" 

" Because," said I, " they all have refer- 
ence to the English government, and would 
not be suitable in this country." 

" But there are a great many things al- 
tered that don't have anytliing to do with 
the government," said Edward. 

" Yes," added Albert, " they don't have 
the same chants. The song of Simeon and 
the sono; of the Yiro-in are left out, and there 
are only four verses left of the song of Zach- 
arias." 

" Those lines on St. Luke's Day in my 
' Christian Year,' would hardly be true in 
this country, would they ? 

" * And taught by thee, the Church prolongs 
Her hynms of high thanksgiving still.' " 

" But," said I, in reply to this remark of 
my wife, " I don't know but that those 
which are substituted for them are more ap- 
propriate to the ordinary occasions of public 
worship." 

" Yery true/' said my wife, " I have no 



DIFFERENCE IN CHUKCH USAGES. 33 



fault to find with the change, nor do I object 
to the leaving out of the Athanasian Creed, 
though one misses some parts of it very 
much. I never could bear to respond to the 
first clause, and am very glad not to be 
called upon to do it." 

" The Commination Service is also omit- 
ted, I have observed. Like the Creed of St. 
Athanasius, I cannot help regretting some 
portions, but on the whole I think the omis- 
sion is wdse. Well, Jenny, do you find any 
more differences betw^een your old Prayer- 
book and your new one ?" 

" Yes, papa, a great many. They don't 
read the whole of the Litany here." 

" No, my dear, but it is in the book. Per- 
haps they read it during Lent." 

'^Well, another thing is, they don't read 
the same lessons. I should not have noticed 
that but for reading every Sunday in the 
' Christian Year,' that Aunt Julia gave me, 
and I found that the pieces did not always 
suit." 

Well," said I, " I am glad we have found 
nothing to object to in the alterations that 
have been made in the Prayer-book. It 
seems to me that they are wise and expedient, 



34 



THE EMIGEAXt's QUEST. 



and I have no fault to find with the Ameri- 
can Chnreh on that score." 

"O papa," cried Jane suddenly, '•may 
we go to Sunday School ? A lady asked me 
to-day, as we were coming out of church, if 
I wouldn't be in her class." 

You go to Sunday School indeed ! " said 
I, very angrily. I wonder what next you 
will want to do !" 

"My dear," interposed my wife, gently, 
" I fancy that Sunday Schools here are dif- 
ferent from what they are at home. All 
the children go to them, and not the poor 
children only." 

" My children shall not go," said I, decid- 
edly. A pretty story tliat would be to get 
back to England — that, before we had been 
in America six months, the children were 
going to Sunday School ! I don't know 
what my father would say to such news." 

It was a very foolish speech of mine, and 
yet I should, even now, have something of 
the same feeling, thoug'h I trust from wiser 
motives. The relioious instruction of chil- 
dren is peculiarly a parent's duty, and I have 
had reason to notice that parents are very 
apt to forget that it is a duty which cannot 
be delegated to others. When they send 



DIFFEKENCE m CHUECH USAGES. 35 



their cliildren to Sunday School, it is too 
often the case, that they think that all that 
is necessary is done for them by the Sunday 
School teachers, who are frequently inexpe- 
rienced young people, and whose personal 
intercourse with their pupils is usually limit- 
ed to an hour in a week. It might be dif- 
ferent, I admit. The Sunday School might 
be a valuable auxiliary to the faithful parent, 
and, doubtless, in many instances this is the 
case. But it is also a temptation to those 
w^hose consciences are easily satisfied, to relin- 
quish entirely a duty, the performance of which 
might have proved a blessing to their ow^n 
souls as well as to those committed to their 
charge. 

Christmas, with its pleasing and painful 
memories, its joyous hymns and festive ever-, 
greens, its solemn services and sacred altar 
feast, had come and gone, and the long, cold 
winter had drawn to a close ; when, early in 
May, another little one was added to our home- 
circle. Our dear, little, blue-eyed blossom 
w^e named Theodore — the gift of God ; and, 
soon after his birth, I called on the minister 
of the parish to consult about his baptism, 
which we at once agreed should take place 
the next Sunday. 



36 



THE EMIGRANT'S QUEST. 



" After which service ?" I inquired. 

" After the second lesson in the Evenino; 
Service," replied Mr. Morrison, " if that 
would suit you. Or, would you prefer hav- 
ing it in the morning ? The service, then, is 
so much longer that I usually have baptisms 
in the afternoon." 

" But couldn't it be after sei^vice ? I know 
my wife would prefer waiting till after the 
congregation have left." 

But, my friend," said the clergyman, "it 
is against the rules. Just read the rubric. 
Tou see it is explicit." 

" I suppose there is the same rubric in the 
English Prayer-book," said I, after reading 
it ; " but I never in my life saw a child bap- 
tized during Divine service." 

Mr. Morrison looked troubled. 
I am afraid," said he, " you think me 
very disobliging ; but I do not know how to 
consent to having it at any other time. If 
the presence of a large congregation is an 
objection, Mrs. Grey might come on a week- 
day. You know there are prayers every 
Wednesday morning." 

I thanked Mr. Morrison, and assured him 
that this latter arrangement would answer 
very well. 



DIFFERENCE IN CHURCH USAGES. 37 

" As Baptism is tlie rite of admission into 
tlie Cliristian Church," said the good rector, 
" you will perceive that there is a fitness in 
its being performed in the presence of a con- 
gregation. Besides, I hope }'ou attach some 
importance to the prayers which are thus se- 
cured for your little one. I can easily un- 
derstand that it is often a trial to parents to 
come forward, but is not the blessing to be 
secured worth the sacrifice of one's own per- 
sonal feelings ? There was a time when 
Christian parents braved death itself to pro- 
cure baptism for their children !" 

My wife was taken by surprise. She had 
supposed the American Church less strict 
than the English, and could hardly think Mr. 
Morrison serious in declining to baptize after 
service, but she was very readily convinced 
that he was right. 

" It will be a trial to me," said she, " but 
how slight a trial, compared with that of a 
Jewish mother in similar circumstances." 

So our little one was enrolled amongst the 
soldiers of Christ, and, when the brief but 
important ceremony was over, we took him 
home, purposing to train him up in the fear 
and love of his adopting Father. 

But vain were our hopes. Our little May- 
4 



38 



THE EMIGrvAXT''S QUEST. 



flower was not destined long to brigliten our 
house. With the heats of summer, it 
drooped and withered ; and, before the 
month of August closed, He, to whom we 
had given our darling, claimed him at our 
hand. 

For the second time he was borne into the 
church, but this time it was not in our arms ; 
my Avife leaned upon me, weeping, but I heard 
her murmur, as we crossed the threshold — 
" Thank God, that we did all that we could 
do for him ! " and I knew she was thinking 
of his baptism. 

The church was half full, and eight or ten 
carriages followed our baby's body to the 
grave. It was very different from our Eng- 
lish customs, but, even in the midst of our 
grief, we could not but feel soothed and soft- 
ened by the sympathy of those around us. 

We laid our little one to rest — 

" 'Not on his cradle bed, 
'Not on his mother's breast — " 

but we trusted that he would be safely kept 
by the love of that Father to whom he had 
gone in unsullied innocence, purified from all 
native defilement, and free from staiu of act- 
ual sin. 



DIFFERENCE IN CHURCH USAGES. 



39 



The high thanksgivings of the burial ser- 
vice never touched me before as they did then. 
Our precious lamb was safe, and we need not 
lament for the departure of one whom we 
should so soon follow. 



CHAPTEE 



Y. 



CONVERSATIOXS WITH SQUIRE BOWEN. 

OUR or five years passed by, and 
still I had not decided whether or 
not I had fonnd our oath Church 
in the Protestant Episcopal Church 
of the United States. We attended service 
there generally once every Lord's Day, and 
my wife and I did not altogether forget the 
Lord's Table, yet we did not feel at home. 
We knew few of our fellow-Churchmen, ex- 
cepting by sight. My wife had, it is true, 
been invited several times to meet with the 
sewing society of the parish, and had done 
so on two or three occasions. But she had 
returned early each time, and much depress- 
ed. She felt herself lonely among strangers, 
who, though they were politely attentive, 
never seemed to think of hemg /Viends, She 
fancied that they remarked and ridiculed the 
little peculiarities of expression or accent, in 
which the natives of one country differ li'om 




CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIKE BOWEN. 41 



those of another, and had felt, in conse- 
quence, awkward and constrained. 

" The heart of a stranger," said she to me, 
on one of these occasions, " is a very tender 
thing. I never fully knew, till now, the force 
of that sentence in Exodus — ' for ye know 
the heart of a stranger, seeing ye were stran- 
gers in the land of Egypt.' It is only by ex- 
perience that one can know the heart of a 
stranger P 

I have mentioned before, that one of our 
neighbors, an Englishman, in much lower 
circumstances than ray own, was a Method- 
ist. I could not but remark the difterent 
positions which our families lield in their res- 
pective communions. Brother Hibbard was 
a class-leader ; his daughters sang in the 
choir, and were always in demand for sing- 
ing meetings and sewing circles, and little so- 
cial gatherings of various kinds. Jenny 
grew acquainted with them, and frequently 
accompanied them to evening meetings, both 
on Sundays and week-days. 

Deacon Warner's people were found to be 
excellent neighbors ; kind in sickness, pleas- 
ant and sociable at all times. They were 
strict in keeping up family worship, and in 

attending upon the public services of the 
4* 



42 



THE EMIGK ant's QUEST. 



Lord's Day ; while, in the simplicity of their 
dress and deportment, their perfect sincerity 
and unpretending beneyolence, they present- 
ed a pattern of the Christian character, that 
it did one good to contemplate. I ^vas 
much pleased that Edward should become in- 
timate with George Warner, and yery read- 
ily allowed him to accompany his friend to 
the Baptist meeting on eyerj occasion when 
I did not go to church myself. 

Till this time, I had become yery little ac- 
quainted with any neighbors besides these ; 
but, as my knowledge of the neighborhood 
increased, and people had time to form an 
opinion of us, I found that we were begin- 
ning to feel at home with some of the others, 
especially with Squire Bowen. The old gen- 
tleman often dropped in for an hour's chat, 
and sometimes brought his wife, with her 
knitting, to spend the eyening. They were 
a pleasant old couple. The husband, tall 
and slender, with something of a military 
bearing, and retaining a good deal of youth- 
ful fire in his keen grey eyes ; the wife, some- 
what dumpy in figure and homely in speech, 
but most kind and motherly in deportment, 
and with an eyer-ready smile on her good-hu- 
mored face. 



CONVERSATIOXS WITH SQUIRE BOWEiq-. 43 



As we became intimate, we were occasion- 
ally led, by our new friends, to converse on 
the customs of our native land, and especial- 
ly of those relating to her Church ; and I 
one day expressed my surprise that Ameri- 
cans should take so much interest in the Eng- 
lish Establishment. 

" I don't like to hear you call it by such a 
name," said the old gentleman, rather hasti- 
ly. " Excuse me, Mr. Grey, but really it is 
strange to me, how you English — brought up 
in such a pure Apostolic Church — the one 
that fought the battles of the Reformation, 
and that has preserved the truths of the Gos- 
pel free from the errors that have infected 
other religious organizations, handing them 
down in all their purity and fulness, as the 
heritage of her children forever — it seems 
strange to me, I say, that you, the sons of 
such a Church, should rest her claims to your 
love and obedience on no higher ground than 
that of her being the Established Church of 
your country." 

" But surely, Mr. Bowen, the National 
Church has claims on the citizens of a Christ- 
ian land ! " 

" It is hardly worth while, my good friend, 
to seek a lower reason for doing our duty, . 



44 



THE EMIGEAXT'S QUEST. 



when we have a higher one. It is true, we 
might say it is right for children to submit to 
their parents because the law requires it, and 
we owe obedience to the laws of the land ; 
but who would think of rendering such a rea- 
son, when we can say God has commanded, 
' Honor thy father and thy mother ? ' — I see 
you uuderstand me. If the Church of Eng- 
land should cease to be the National Church 
to-morrow, she would still possess the same 
authority, the same claims to love and obedi- 
ence, that she has now.'' 

I looked a little doubtful, though I could 
say nothing against my neighbor's assertion. 

Perhaps I don't quite understand you," 
I said. 

I will try to be a little clearer. You 
will admit that all power to minister in sa- 
cred things comes from God.*' 

Certainly. But kings and rulers are, in 
one sense, ministers of God, you know." 

True, my good friend, but only in things 
temporal. Saul, you remember, lost his king- 
dom by presuming on the duties of the priest- 
hood, and Uzziah was smitten with leprosy 
for a similar ofience. You never heard of 
king or parliament consecrating a bishop." 
" They nominate them though," said I. 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIRE BOWEN. 45 



"I don't tliink tliey ought to have that 
right," rejoined Mr. Bowen. The Church 
ought to nominate, as well as elect, her own 
bishops. But still, though Parliament may 
nominate, no power on earth could make a 
man a bishop, if the consecration was with- 
held." 

" Very true." 

" That shows that he derives his episcopal 
authority, not from his nomination, but from 
his consecration ; not from the government, 
but from the Church ; and thus, from the 
Head of the Church — Christ himself." 

" I am afraid that I know very little of the 
grounds for the Church's authority, except 
the nationality," said I ; I was always satis- 
fied with it, and always intended to remain 
in it, so it seemed a matter of little conse- 
quence to me ; and, in fact, I don't think I 
should quite understand the matter, if I were 
to study it." 

And yet it appears to me very simple," 
said Mr. Bowen. Perhaps I can give an 
illustration. Our president appoints a post- 
master-general, and the postmaster-general 
appoints subordinate postmasters throughout 
the Union. But, though he may appoint 
thousands, the power by which they are ap- 



46 



THE emigrant's QEEST. 



pointed is really the president's ; and, in the 
remotest corner of the country, no man can 
take the office of postmaster, without ofiend- 
ing against the authority of the highest 
power in the nation, unless he has been law- 
fully appointed by the officer to whom alone 
the power of making such appointments has 
been delegated." 

" I perceive that you consider your Church 
to be essentially the same with the Church 
of England." 

" Certainly. She differs only in having 
no connection with the state, and in a few 
slight alterations in those rites and ceremo- 
nies which each particular church has author- 
ity to establish for itself You remember 
the article on that point ?" 

" I know the preface to the American 
Prayer-book claims to have departed from 
the Church of England in no ' essential point 
of doctrine, discipline or w^orship,' and I 
am not disposed to dispute the assertion. 
But, though forms and doctrines may be the 
same, the spirit may be so different as to 
make it, in reality, a different church." 

" Yery true ; we know that a galvanized 
corpse is a very different thing from a liv- 
ing man, though it may move, and though 



CONVERSATIOXS WITH SQUIEE BOWEX. 47 



all tlie bones and muscles, all the framework 
of a man, are in perfection. But I do not 
believe there is any difference between the 
two churches, further than what nnavoid- 
ably results from the circumstances in which 
each is placed." 

Well now, for example, I have been liv- 
ing on this farm for four years, and during 
all that time have received only two visits 
from our clergyman. Is not parochial visit- 
ing an essential part of the Church system ? 
I believe that private as well as public moni- 
tion of his people is amongst the duties that, 
at his ordination, a priest promises to per- 
form." 

" My good neighbor, did it ever occur to 
you, that you live four miles from the vil- 
lage, and that your pastor's salary does not 
enable him to keep a horse ?" 

''But our clergymen were, in general, 
equally destitute. They usually walked, in 
making parochial calls, and they made a 
business of it, too. On four days out of the 
seven, from ten o'clock till three, our clergy- 
man was always engaged in this way. I 
don't think local circumstances can have 
made all the difference in this respect." 

" I think I have heard you say that tlie 



48 



THE EMIGPwANt's QUEST. 



climate of England is more suited to walk- 
ing tlian ours is, and that your roads are not 
often rendered impassable by snow or mud." 

" I never tliought of that," I replied, has- 
tily, as I recalled to mind the smooth, white 
roads, on which, in the rainiest times, the 
mud never reached the depth of an inch. I 
could not help thinking, too, that if the tlier- 
mometer had kept above eighty in the shade 
for weeks together in summer, and remained 
in the neighborhood of zero for days to- 
gether in the winter, our parish clergyman 
would have felt a walk of several hours 
rather too severe a trial to be encountered 
regularly four or five times a week. 

" Besides," continued Mr. Bowen, " there 
is the difference of procuring domestic help, 
that makes a clergyman's home duties more 
laborious. Mr. Morrison, for example, cuts 
his own wood, milks his own cow, does the 
marketing, cultivates his own garden, and 
frequently, no doubt, is obliged to assist his 
wdfe within doors. You stare, my good friend, 
but this last is an unavoidable part of a 
country clergyman's duties, in a part of the 
w^orld where girls are hard to find, and hard 
to keep when found." 

" But other classes have these difiiculties," 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIKE BO WEN. 49 



said T, after a pause ; " and a clergyman's 
home duties are not greater, I suppose, tlian a 
lawyer's or a doctor's. "Why can't lie devote 
as much time to the business of his calling as 
they do ?" 

" He has more home duties," replied Mr. 
Bowen. " The wife of a lawyer or doctor is 
undisturbed by her husband's clients or pa- 
tients, but the time of a clergyman's wife is 
perpetually broken in upon by the claims of 
her husband's parishioners. Calls at all 
times are perfectly in order at the par- 
sonage, and if the wife is kneading the 
bread, or scrubbing the kitchen, the husband 
must leave his study, though, by so doing, he 
loses a fine train of thought, and spoils his 
next Sunday's sermon. Be assured, my good 
friend, that it is from no defect in our 
Church, but merely from local causes, that 
the duty of parochial visiting is so much 
neglected. Were the clergy as numerous, 
and as well provided for, as in England, 
there would be little complaint on that score, 
I think." 

" Pshaw !" said T, with more energy than 
politeness ; " every one seems to think that 
in England the clergy are all rich. It is a 
great mistake, Mr. Bowen, a very great mis- 
5 



50 



THE EMIGEAXT^S QUEST. 



take. I know several, in small pariskes 
round Croscombe, wko do not receive so 
muck from tkeir livings as Mr. Morrison re- 
ceives from tkis parisk, and some were posi- 
tively poor, keeping kouse on a smaller sti- 
pend tkan an assistant in a commercial 
scliool could command." 

" I kave no doubt tkere are many suck 
cases," replied Mr. Bowen, *' but, generally 
an Englisk clergyman kas sometking besides 
liis ' living ' to support kim, wkick is very 
rarely tke case in tkis country. Yery few of 
our clergymen kave any private property, 
and many enter on tke work of tke ministry 
encumbered by debts, contracted in acquir- 
ing tke education and tke books, necessary 
to prepare tkem for it. Besides, a person 
can live on a muck smaller income wken ke 
kas a settled kome, and tkougk your poor 
curates do not possess tkat luxury, I suppose 
every ' parson ' does, and tkat, wken ke en- 
ters kis parsonage, it is witk tke comfortable 
feeling tkat every improvement ke makes 
will be kis to enjoy for life." 

" Tkere's anotker tking I don't like," I 
resumed, after a pause. " A poor man, in 
England, feels tkat ke and kis family kave a 
perfect rigkt to be accommodated in tkeir 



CONVEPvSATIONS WITH SQUIKE BOWEN. 51 



parish churcli. Such a thing as their ^j**:^?//?? 5?' 
for the privilege is never thought of. You 
know that is not the case here, and I have no 
doubt many a poor family is kept away from 
church by want of ability to pay the pew- 
rent." 

" Would that our land were filled ^\dth 
free churches !" said Mr. Bowen, earnestly ; 
" may the time come ! though I cannot hope 
it will be in our day. You know that in 
England religious privileges for all are pro- 
vided at the cost of government, while in 
this country people must provide them for 
themselves. There are a good many disad- 
vantages in our way of doing things, I am 
willing to admit, but the fault of not provid- 
ing for the religious instruction of the people 
rests with the civil government, not with the 
Church. I should not wonder, my good 
friend, if things in England look a little 
brighter to you now than they did when you 
were there. Perhaps you did not relish the 
payment of tithes much more than some 
other people." 

I smiled at Mr. Bowen's shrewd guess, 
which was not far from the truth ; but, 
though the conversation was soon changed^ 
I did not forget the old gentleman's remarks. 



52 



THE EMIGEANt's QUEST. 



One thing is certain, tlionght I, that Ameri- 
can Churchmen know more about the 
Church than we do. Very natural, too, that 
they should. It is our national Church, and 
unless we dissent from its doctrines or forms 
of worship, we belong to it as a matter of 
course, while here people do not belong to it 
without some reason for preferring it to all 
others. Certainly Mr. Bowen seems to know 
the reasons why he is a Churchman. 

One of the effects of this con versation was 
to induce me to say to a poor Englishman, 
who had recently emiofrated, and whom I 
sometimes employed on my farm : 

" Jeremy, I haven't seen you at church 
for a long time." 

"1^0, measter, I goes to the Methodist 
meeting." 

" Oh, I didn't know that you were a Meth- 
odist." 

Xo more I weren't, sir. I beant no 
more of a Methody than you be, only I goes 
there 'cause they be more sociable like than 
the Church folk}' 

I was inclined to say, But you don't go 
to church to be sociable, but to worship 
God ;" but I checked myself, for I felt that 
poor Jeremy's experience was the same in 



CONYEESATIONS WITH SQUIEE BOWEN. 53 



kind with, though differing in degree from, 
my own. How could I blame him ? 

You see, sir," continued Jeremy, " the 
Church parson never came a-nigh us all the 
weeks we was down with the fever, and I 
couldn't stand it, nor wife neither, to be 
treated in that way. So we've been to the 
Methodist ever since." 

" And does the Methodist minister come 
to see you any oftener than Mr. Morrison 
did?" I inquired, a little curious to know 
whether this neglect of parochial duty was 
peculiar to our own clergy. 

" Why, no, measter, I can't say as he do. 
But then the people do come, and very 
friendly sort of folk they seem to be." 

I wonder if that is not the grand obstacle 
to my feeling at home in the Church, thought 
I. AVe don't feel acquainted with the mem- 
bers, and they are not very sociable with 
strangers, I think. I believe this coldness 
and distance on their part makes the great 
difference between Churchmen here and at 
home. 

I mentioned this opinion of mine to Mr. 
Bowen, when we next met, and he smiled, as 
he asked me, if I had ever tried the experi- 
ment in England of going from my native 
5* 



54: 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



parish, where I knew every one, into one in 
which I was entirely unacquainted. 
I never had. 
I thought not," rejoined the old gentle- 
man, "for, if you had, you would not have 
supposed coldness and indifference towards 
strangers to be peculiar to American Church- 
men." 

" However," continued he, " there is too 
much of it amongst us, no doubt. I wish we 
could cultivate a little of the fraternizing spirit 
of our worthy friends the Methodists, and treat 
those who kneel at the same altar more as if 
we believed them to be in truth our brothers 
and sisters, instead of merely calling them so 
in our offices of devotion. This, however, 
concerns our duties as individuals, and its 
neglect can hardly be charged upon the 
Church, any more than any other failure in 
Christian duty, on the part of her members." 

" We cannot help feeling the difference, in 
this respect, between the members of our own 
communion, and those of other religious bo- 
dies — the Baptist and Methodist for exam- 
ple. It certainly is a trial to one's faith." 

" My good friend ! " said Mr. Bowen, look- 
ing earnestly at me, with his accustomed cor- 
dial smile, it appears to me, from your own 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIRE BOWEN. 55 



account, that you have been enjoying the 
privileges of the Church, in their full extent, 
all your life hitherto. Are you not willing, 
now, to sacrifice something for the sake of 
show ing your attachment and gratitude ? " 

I would, very willingly, if the sacrifice 
concerned only myself, but it is harder to do 
so when my children are concerned. They 
would be prominent members, as good as 
anybody, in some other religious society, 
while in our own they are nobodies, and w^ill 
grow up there, neither valued nor useful." 

" Take my word for it, Edward Grey, that 
if yon remain loyal to your Church, your 
children will thank you for it, in ten years' 
time. I confess it is a trial for you, but, if 
you prove true to your faith, all will turn out 
w^ell in the end. But," continued the old gen- 
tleman, after a considerable pause, " do you 
feel that you have been true to your faith, 
my good friend ? I know it is often the case, 
that one is most inclined to criticise others 
when in fault one's self. The poet's advice is 
good : 

" * Search thine own heart ; what paineth thee 
In others, in thyself may be : 
All hearts are frail, all flesh is weak, 
Be thou the true man thou dost seek.' " 



56 



THE emigrant's quest. 



"I don't understand in what respect I 
have failed." 

''Think of it, and jou may find out. I 
don't want you to confess to me, but only to 
set you to examine yourself. In this coun- 
try, where clergymen are so few and far be- 
tween, perhaps we may take it for granted 
that laymen have a large share of parochial 
and missionary work to perform. The duty 
of kindly intercourse with one's fellow-Christ- 
ians, and of co-operation with the clergyman 
in schemes of usefulness and benevolence, I 
need not mention, as we have just been la- 
menting the evils produced by the want of 
social feeling amongst us." 

I felt guilty. I knew that I was by no 
means ready in visiting the poor and sick, 
and that, with the conviction that he had neg- 
lected us, I had held myself very much aloof 
from Mr. Morrison. Perhaps Mr. Bowen 
knew what was passing in my mind, for he 
did not wait for any answer, before proceed- 
ing : 

"I think you will always find, that, for 
whatever we blame others, we may detect 
something of the same fault in ourselves. 
Every head of a family, especially every fa- 
ther, is a priest by God's special appoint- 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIRE BOWEN. 57 



ment ; and Ins family is his parish, to be by 
him instructed and disciplined in all the doc- 
trines and duties of religion. You will 
please excuse me if I speak very freely." 

" Certainly, certainly. It is for my good, I 
know, and I thank you for doing so." 

" Then I will ask you, if you think you 
are doing your duty towards your children ; 
your two eldest, more particularly ?" 

" I suppose you think they ought not 
to leave the services of our Church for those 
of others," said I, with some warmth. " But, 
Mr. Bowen, you do not appear to understand 
my character. If there is one fault I detest 
above all others it is that of bigotry." 

" Perhaps we should not quite agree in our 
definitions of bigotry," said Mr. Bowen, 
without noticing my rudeness ; " you will 
often find it combined with the most latitu- 
dinarian views of religion. For my part, I 
should not think it bigotry to bring up chil- 
dren in the faith which I had promised that 
thej^ should keep." 

" But my children have no thought of 
abandoning that faith." 

" If they are influenced by the teachings 
that they hear every Sunday evening, it wdll 
not be long before they are ready to do so." 



58 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



Well," said T, it would give me miicli 
pain, no doubt, to have my son relinquish 
the Church of his fathers, but he might do 
worse than to become a Baptist. I believe 
our Baptist neighbors to be a truly excellent 
class of people." 

" Readily granted, my good friend ; but 
excellent people often do very bad things. 
You took your son, in infancy, to the baptis- 
mal font : are you prepared to hear that he 
looks upon that solemn sacrament, the sign 
and seal of his adoption into the family of 
Christ, as a mere idle ceremony, of no value 
whatever? that he is ready to renounce its 
benefits, and seek for baptism anew ?" 

" Impossible !" I exclaimed, " I thought 
the repetition of baptism was always regard- 
ed as sacrilege." 

" If your son becomes a Baptist, it is only 
by such a sacrilege that he can be admitted 
to their communion. Think, then, what a 
temptation to commit a grievous sin he is ex- 
posed to, by the preaching he is in the habit 
of hearing." 

" But with Jenny it is different," I persist- 
ed, after an uneasy pause ; " the Methodists 
never re-baptize. In fact, I don't think they 
trouble themselves much about baptism any 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIRE BOWEN. 59 



way, and in doctrine, tliey do not differ from 
the Cliurcli of England." 

Setting aside the sin of schism, and the 
qnestion as to the lawfulness of their minis- 
try," said Mr. Bowen, " we can see that there 
is much .to object to in their usages. I do not 
like to find fault with a body of Christians, 
whom I highly esteem for the zeal and broth- 
erly love, of which they appear to possess a 
larger share than most others ; but you have 
been to some of their ^ protracted meetings,' 

I think r 

" I have, and was thoroughly disgusted." 

" And what do you suppose would be the 
effect of often witnessing such scenes on 
those who do not fully sympathize with 
them ? Pain and disgust at first, perhaps, but 
by degrees, the quick perception of irrev- 
erence becomes blunted, and one of the most 
beautiful traits of a religious mind is soon 
destroyed. I scarcely ever knew a young 
person, brought up amongst the Methodists, 
who possessed that reverence for sacred 
things, which seems to me so essential a part 
of a religious character." 

^' Then you would have me forbid Edward 
and Jane going to any other place of worship 
than our own." 



60 



THE EMIGEAKT'S QUEST. 



" You Lave allowed them to begin, and it 
would appear unreasonable and capricious in 
you to forbid them now. But you should see 
to it that they are well instructed in your 
own faith, if you wish that they should con- 
tinue in it. It often happens, that the young 
leave us from neglect of teaching." 

" I have need to be taught myself," thought 
I, as I hung my head, and called to mind my 
many deficiencies in the practice, and igno- 
rance in the doctrines, of religion. 

My neighbor's words had roused me to 
self-examination. Sure enough, while find- 
ing fault with my fellow-Christians, I had 
done very little credit to the cause I profess- 
ed by my example. Family prayers and 
reading the Scriptures had been gradually 
neglected, till now" we never thought of having 
them but on Sundays. The catechising of 
the children, a duty which I had been too 
proud to share with Sunday School teachers, 
had been very irregularly perfonned, and at 
long intervals. Religion had been put aside, 
as the thing of least importance, to be at- 
tended to when everything else was done, 
instead of being regarded as first in its 
claims, and all-pervading in its nature. 

When one's errors are detected, one very 



CONVERSATIONS WITH SQUIEE EOWEX. 61 

important step is taken towards finding tlie 
way back to the right path, but it is far 
easier to leave that path, than to regain it. 

I was deeply in earnest, however, in mak- 
ing the attempt ; and, with many prayers for 
Divine guidance, and after consulting Avith 
my wife, decided on two things — the re-es- 
tablishment of family worship, and the regu- 
lar instruction of the children (including Ed- 
ward and Jane) for an hour at least, every 
Sunday evening. As I did not wish to act a 
capricious or unreasonable part, or to rouse 
opposition to my measures, I said nothing 
against their accompanying their young 
friends as usual, after the hour of catechis- 
ing ; but trusted that, by instructing them in 
the principles of a sound faith, they might be 
preserved from the danger of imbibing erro- 
neous doctrines, or of conforming to objec- 
tionable customs in religion. 

6 



CHAPTEE YI. 



SETTIKG TO WOEK. 

ETERAL months had passed by, 
and things went on smoothly in 
our family. We liad set in earnest 
about the work of making ours a 
Christian household, and the blessing of God 
seemed to accompany our endeavors. 

It was with a deep sense of my own igno- 
rance that I set about the work of instruct- 
ing the children. I had learned the Cate- 
chism at school, where that and the Collects 
formed the regular Saturday morning's les- 
sons, and the elder children had learned it 
in the same way while in England, so that 
neither I nor my wife had any experience in 
this kind of instruction. AVith the Prayer- 
book in my hand, I began to teach as I had 
been taught myself* 

A copy of " Beaven's Help to Catechising" 
proved a great assistance, and in looking out 
the references, I found my own knowledge 




SETTING TO WORK. 



63 



materially increased. We sang a hymn at 
tlie beginning and close of our catechetical 
exercises, and as one tune readily leads to 
another, we sometimes spent an hour or more 
in music, in which my flute and my wife's 
voice took the most prominent part. 

Tlie children were highly pleased with the 
music ; and, on other than Sunday evenings, 
we began to employ it in closing our family 
w^orship. Edward and Jane were very fair 
singers, and chants as well as hymn-tunes 
soon became familiar sounds in my house. 

I have said that I began with the Church 
Catechism. After a while, as I found my- 
self more at home in teaching, I procured a 
series of questions on the Gospels, as an addi- 
tional exercise for the older ones. It hap- 
pened about this time that, for some cause or 
other, the Hibbards gave up going to evening 
meetings (I believe because they had a 
preacher they did not like), and the two eldest 
fell into the habit of coming in during our 
teaching hour. As I did not care to have an 
audience, I used to address questions to them 
in turn with my own children, and very soon 
we heard that they were members of Mr. 
Grey's Bible Class." Tliis was making a 
great matter of my poor little attempt to in- 



64 THE EMIGEANT'S QUEST. 



struct my own household, but I had no ob- 
jections to the Hibbards' coming, though it 
made public, in some measure, M'hat was in- 
tended to be merely a family affair. Sunday 
evening was a very cheerful, happy time 
with us. With a map of Palestine spread 
on the table, around which we sat with our 
Bibles and Prayer-books, we busied ourselves 
long after the hour of regular instruction was 
over, in linking together the places and 
events of Scripture. 

" Find Damascus on the map," Edward 
would say to one of the little ones, and when 
found, he would ask : 

" What can you say of Damascus ? What 
is there about it in the Bible ?" 

It existed in Abraham's time," said Al- 
bert, " so it must be the oldest city in the 
world." 

St. Paul was going there w^hen he was 
struck blind," said Jane. 

" And he remained there, in the street 
called Straight, till Ananias restored him to 
sight," added Fanny Hibbard. 

" Abana and Pharphar were rivers of Da- 
mascus," said little Emily. 

" And Damask roses, Damascus swords, 
Damascene (or Damson) plums, and the 



SETTINa TO AVORK. 



65 



silken fabric called Damaslc, all came origin- 
ally from Damascus," added I. 

Then one \YOuld ask : 
How many miracles are recorded in the 
New Testament ?" 

And as they were recounted, the scene of 
each was found on the map as nearly as pos- 
sible. The miracles served us with matter 
for instruction for several evenings, while we 
grew familiar with the season and locality, 
in which each was wrought, together with 
every attendant circumstance. 

We had often regretted that some of the 
children of the neighborhood, the Aliens and 
Fitzgeralds, should be growing up so utterly 
devoid of religious knowledge. 

" Perhaps," said I to Edward, " this is a 
little missionary work that we ought to do. 
Do you think we could get up a little class 
of Sunday scholars amongst them V 

I don't believe we should get the older 
children," said Edward, " but we might try. 
I think the younger ones would be very 
likely to come. There is no priest about 
here, so the Fitzgeralds don't feel under any 
restraint. Mother and Jenny had better call 
and see them." 

My wife and Jane went, and succeeded in 
6* 



66 



THE EMIGRANT'S QUEST. 



finding seven scholars in the two families, 
who were duly instructed to be at our house 
by six o'clock precisely on Sunday evening. 

Edward and Jenny were to teach this little 
ignorant flock, of whom the oldest was about 
eleven, and the youngest nearly six. They 
consulted with us, however, as to the plan 
of instruction, and began by giving them 
some of the simplest outlines of religion, and 
teaching them the Lord's Prayer, proceeding 
thence to the Ten Commandments, and their 
application to the duties of daily life. As 
the children evidently cared little for the in- 
struction they received, I wondered that 
they should continue to be in their places 
promptly after the novelty had worn off, but 
the mystery was solved when I mentioned it 
to my wife. Jenny had a currant coolcie 
ready to give to each of the children after 
their walk, and as these were distributed as 
soon as the clock struck six, the little ones 
were obliged to be punctual, if they would 
come in for a share. 

Our young teachers sometimes complained 
that their labors were all in vain ; that the 
children were as rude, and rough, and un- 
principled as ever, and that they seemed to 
understand very little of what they were 



SETTING TO WORK. 



67 



taking so much pains to impress upon 
them. 

" You cannot judge as yet," said I. The 
seed is thrown into the ground long before it 
makes itself noticeable above. Sow in faith 
and prayer, and your labor will not be in 
vain. You remember w^hat you w^ere read- 
ing last night, Jenny, 

** * And if thou miss the victor's meed, 
Thou shalt not lack the worker's pay.' " 



CHAPTEE VII. 



THE CONFIRMATION. 

T is surprising how much better 
satisfied I grew with my Church, 
when I began to work with her. 
I think we all felt more of union 
with her, and prized her services more than 
we had ever done before. AVe often re- 
mained to the afternoon service, though it 
was somewhat inconvenient to us, as there 
was an " intermission " of two hours, during 
which we scarcely knew how to dispose of 
ourselves. 

We began to feel more acquainted with 
the members of the congregation, and my 
wife occasionally went to a meeting of the 
Sewing Society, taking Jenny with her. It 
was one of the rules of this Society that an 
hour of each meeting was to be spent in 
reading, and it happened that they were 
about this time engaged on Kip's " Double 
"Witness of the Church." Mv wife was so 




THE CONFIRMATION. 



69 



much interested in the portions she heard, 
that she procured a copy of the work for the 
benefit of our family, and it did more towards 
clearing up my ideas of the Cliurch as disso- 
ciated from the EstablisJiment XhdiR any book 
I ever read. I had come to this country with 
a vague traditional belief in the Church of 
England as our National Churchy and was 
disposed to think that in a country where 
there was no National Church, one religious 
society had as much claim to my regard as 
another. Though I considered myself to be- 
long to the Episcopal Church, it was only (to 
my mind) a matter of choice. I was accus- 
tomed to her mode of worship, and preferred 
it to any other. That was all ; I had no 
idea of her claims on my faith and obe- 
dience. 

One Sunday notice was given of the ex- 
pectation of an approaching visitation of the 
Bishop of the Diocese, and candidates for 
confirmation were desired to give in their 
names to the rector of the parish. Of course, 
this furnished us with matter of conversation 
as we sat on the shady side of the church, 
eating apples and gingerbread during inter- 
mission. 

''I never saw a confirmation but once," 



70 THE emigrant's QL'EST. . 

said J enn J. " That was nearly three years 
ago. You were not there, father. At that 
time there were only seven persons confirm- 
ed.^' 

" When I was confirmed there were near- 
ly seven hundred," said I. 

" Oh, father ! How I should like to see so 
many." 

"A confirmation in England is a very 
pretty sight," said my wife. The candi- 
dates are all young, and the girls wear no 
bonnets, but have little close white caps on 
their heads ; though some wear lawn veils 
instead, which almost cover them. They are 
usually dressed in white, too, and sit all to- 
gether, in the body of the church." 

" But how can there be so many to be con- 
firmed ?" asked Albert. 

" The Bishop does not visit every parish, 
but only some large churches, to which the 
clergy of all the parishes around, bring their 
candidates. I do not like the custom. There 
are more evils attending it, than the clergy 
imagine ; and, even if it did no harm to the 
candidates, there is not so much solemnity 
about the rite where there are such numbers 
as to fatigue the Bishop, as there is when it 
is administered in every parish, amongst the 



THE CONFIRMATION-. 



71 



friends and neighbors of those who are con- 
firmed." 

" Yes," said my wife ; " there was more 
impressive solemnity, in the quietness and 
earnestness of the confirmation Jenny saw, 
in this little church, than in any I ever saw 
in my life." 

''Father, how old were yon, when you 
were confirmed ?" asked Edward. 

^' I was a little older than Jenny ; — fifteen, 
or a little over. They usually come to con- 
firmation much earlier in England than is 
the custom here." 

Do you think me old enough to be con- 
firmed ?" asked Edward, flushing to his fore- 
head. 

" Certainly, Edward. But confirmation 
implies a great deal. Have you made up 
your mind to go on, if you take tliis 
step ?" 

" I think so, father ; I have been thinking 
of it for a long time." 

" Then we will speak to Mr. Morrison at 
once. Jane, you look as if you wanted to 
say something." 

" Do you think me too young, papa?" 
I do not, but perhaps Mr. Morrison may. 
I will ask him." 



72 



THE EMIGEANT'S QUEST. 



Mr. Morrison looked mnch pleased at find- 
ins; Edward a candidate for confirmation, 
and requested liim to join a class that lie was 
forming for particular preparatory instruc- 
tion. He thought Jenny rather young, but 
still, if of thoughtful, steady character, not 
too young, to receive the rite. " Some were 
older at fifteen than others at twenty," he 
observed. 

" And Jane is considerably over fourteen," 
said I ; " I believe she is half-way towards the 
completion of her fifteenth year." 

The two names were accordingly entered 
— the first that had been given in — and 
Edward and Jane were both required to 
give their attendance at the confirmation 
class. 

" Year by year, I feel more and more the 
necessity of having the preparation for con- 
firmation deep and thorough," said Mr. Mor- 
rison ; " I am afraid that, at one time, I was 
sadly remiss on this point, and thought it 
enough that the candidates should be in 
earnest in their professions. I now feel that 
they cannot be too well grounded in the doc- 
trines, and instructed in the practice, of reli- 
gion. I have met with some sad disappoint- 
ments amongst those whom I, at one time, 



THE COXFIRMATION. 



73 



regarded as most valuable members, and am 
afraid I prepared the way for disappointment 
by my own neglect." 

" The Catechism seems a very full compen- 
dium of doctrine and precept," said I. 

" It is. But many of those who come to 
us for confirmation, have had no early ac- 
quaintance with the Catechism ; and, though 
they learn it now, as they are required to do, 
it is often without much sense of its teach- 
ings being binding upon them. So it has 
come to pass, that I have found amongst my 
flock, some who object to infant baptism, 
some who disbelieve in eternal punishment, 
and some, who hold unscriptural and danger- 
ous opinions of our Saviour. I was a long 
time in finding out these things, for it seems 
a point of common honesty, that one should 
hold the doctrines, and conform to the 
usages, of a body to which he deliberately 
joins himself ; but there is a terrible laxity 
of principle in some people's way of regard- 
ing religious duties, especially those whicli 
are matters of faith. It would seem, some- 
times, as if the truths which the Son of God 
came down from heaven to establish, and for 
which martyrs have shed their blood, were 
considered of no importance at all to many 
7 



74 



THE EMIORANT's QUEST. 



who call tliemselves Cliristians. Your Eng- 
lish clergy have not so much to fear from 
evils of this kind. I suppose their examina- 
tions for confirmations are very easily man- 
aged." 

" There are different usages in different 
parishes, I think. Examination in the Cate- 
chism is, I should suppose, never omitted by 
those who examine most slightly; but, in 
many parishes, classes are under instruction 
for many weeks, and in some, the clergy are 
very particular not to grant tickets for con- 
firmation to any who they have not reason 
to suppose will live suitably to their profes- 
sion in that rite. But, as you observed, sir, 
things are very different in England. There, 
every child is brought up to learn the Cate- 
chism, and, whether it influences his conduct 
or not, it is pretty certain to remain in his 
memory, and to exercise some influence over 
his belief" 

" It is strange, that I have never m^t with 
English peasants who seemed to be Church- 
men. Sometimes they are Methodists, and 
sometimes a worthless, irreligious set, who 
call themselves Churchmen, but whose only 
claim to the title rests on their having been 
baptized. But I must talk with you again 



THE CONFIRMATION. 



75 



on this subject, Mr. Grey. At present I 
have no time to spare, as the bell informs 
me." 

I had never felt myself really at home in 
our Church, till the day on which my chil- 
dren were confirmed. Why it should have 
been so, I could hardly have told at the 
time, but I have since thought of several 
reasons, amongst which I may mention two 
or three. 

In the first place, the church was filled, 
and thus looked more like the parish churches 
of my native land, where I had rarely seen 
other than full congregations. 

In the second place, while I had found 
Morning and Evening Prayer, the Litany, 
the Baptismal Ofiice^, and the Burial Ser- 
vice, in some re&pects changed from the old 
formularies, I now found a portion of the 
Prayer-book that had remained unaltered. 
The Bishop, whose vestments resembled 
those of the bishops I had previously seen, 
pronounced over the kneeling candidates the 
same words that I had heai'd accompanying 
the gentle pressure of Apostolic hands on my 
own head, nearly thirty years before. The 
same vow^s were made, the same prayers of- 
fered up, and, in my heart, I felt as if kneel- 



76 THE EMIGEAJSTT's QUEST. 

ing beside my children, and renewing with 
them my baptismal vows. I was at home — 
at home again. This Church was, indeed, 
MY OWN Church. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 



VISIT FKOM THE MOEKISONS. 

HE religious character of your 
countrymen, at least of tlie gen- 
erality of those I have met with, 
puzzles ine very much," said 
Mr. Morrison to me, a few days after the con- 
firmation. 

According to previous agreement, we had 
sent Edward with the team, in the morning, to 
bring all the family to spend the day with us. 
The little Morrisons were, with Albert and 
Emily, hen's-nesting in the bam and farm- 
yard ; Mrs. Morrison was chatting with my 
wife in the parlor, and Mr. Morrison and I 
had taken our seats on the little verandah (or 
stoop^ as all the neighbors called it), where, 
partially screened by the lilacs, and shaded 
from the sun by a row of maples, we were 
so comfortable as to feel no disposition to 
quit the spot. 

" I cannot understand,'^ continued Mr. 
7* 




78 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



Morrison, "how it happens, that, in a coun- 
try where the truths of religion are certainly- 
very generally taught, people can grow up so 
extremely ignorant on such subjects, as I 
have found the mass of English emigrants to 
be. I read in books of a peasant popula- 
tion, who are modest and prudent, sensible 
and religious, even though ignorant and pre- 
judiced ; but I find no specimens of such a 
class amongst the emigrants to our shores. 
Pray tell me, Mr. Grey, does such a class ex- 
ist in reality, or is it to be found only in the 
pages of fiction ?" 

" There certainly are such characters to be 
found in England," I replied, " but there are 
a good many reasons why you should never 
have encountered any. Men who are sober 
and industrious, honest and religious, have 
fewer inducements to leave their homes than 
others. Foreign emigration takes ofi* the 
scum of our population, just as, in this coun- 
try, the same class is drifted off to the fron- 
tiers J' 

" But what surprises me," observed Mr. 
Morrison, is . that it is chiefly amongst 
those who claim to belong to the Church, 
that so much evil is to be found. The Meth- 
odists, on the contrary, receive some of their 



VISIT FROM THE MORRISONS. 79 



best members by emigration, and they have 
the same ties to bind them to England as 
their worthy neighbors who are Church- 
men." 

" Hardly," I replied. " No English Wes- 
leyan or Dissenter is as strongly attached to 
his native land as is the English Church- 
man." 

" Well, perhaps not. There must be the 
dissatisfaction with the established religion, 
of course, to prevent." 

" And then," pursued I, " when Church- 
men emigrate, those who are sincerely and 
warmly attached to the establishment usually 
go where they can still enjoy its advantages, 
and where they can still remain under the 
same civil government. In our country, 
loyalty and sound Churchmanship go to- 
gether." 

" How do you reconcile that statement 
with your own case ?" asked the clergyman, 
smiling a little. 

" By acknowledging that there was not 
much sound Churchmanship in my case," I 
replied. I did not regard such matters as 
of paramount importance. If, before leav- 
ing England, I had thought as I do now on 
this subject, I should never have had the 



80 



THE EMIGRAXt's QUEST. 



pleasure of making your acquaintance, Mr. 
Morrison." 

That being the case, though I regret that 
you once estimated your religious privileges 
too lightly," rejoined Mr. Morrison, I think 
you are not likely to fall into that error a 
second time. I can easily fancy that, to one 
accustomed to find the Church in every little 
hamlet, the spiritual destitution of our New 
World must appear frightful. How many 
parish churches were there, Mr. Grey, within 
a circuit of — say, twelve miles around your 
former home ?" 

" Twelve miles ! Indeed I could not say. 
There were over ten, within a circuit of six 
miles, I should think." 

And here — note the difference r I am the 
only clergyman of our Church, within twelve 
miles." 

''But," said I, "there is a difference in 
your duties. An English clergyman is ex- 
pected to visit all in his parish, while you are 
required to exercise pastoral care and over- 
sight only amongst the members of your con- 
gregation, who do not constitute a twentieth 
part of the population." 

^'But these members are scattered over 
the country, often miles away from church. 



VISIT FROM THE MORRISONS. 81 



Believe me, Mr. Grey, it is easier to deal 
with a dense population, than with these un- 
manageable distances. What can one do 
with such an extent of country ? Must it be 
left entirely uncared for ? I find it sufficient- 
ly difficult to keep watch over my own con- 
gregation, and yet I can hardly reconcile 
myself to the idea of making no effort to 
bring the homeless, wandering sheep around 
us into the Saviour's fold." 

" But what can you do ?" I asked. 

Mr. Morrison did not reply for a few mo- 
ments, and when he spoke again, he seemed 
to have quitted the subject. 

" I noticed amongst the books on your 
parlor table, that charming little work, ' The 
Eectory of Valehead.' You have read it, I 
have no doubt." 

" More than once. It is a great favorite 
with my wife." 

"Perhaps you remember a passage in 
which the author compares the Church to 
' those perfect bodies in unorganized nature, 
which, however you divide them, and how- 
ever far you carry your division, still present, 
though on a lessening scale, parts similar to 
each other, and to the whole.' Do you re- 
member that idea, Mr. Grey ?" 



82 



THE EMTGRANt'^S QUEST. 



" Quite well. It is the leading idea of tlie 
book. The household of Yalehead is a min- 
iature Church, having its liturgy, adapted to 
its own peculiarities, its anniversaries of joy- 
ous or sorrowful events in the family, its — • 
but I am forgetting that you have read the 
work, Mr. Morrison.'^ 

"Well, I was thinking^ that, if this idea of 
good Mr. Evans is not a fanciful one, it 
points out to us a double class of duties to- 
wards the Church. If, in one relation, we 
are subordinate, in another, we are at the 
head. So, if every family constitutes a min- 
iature parish, every parish should be a min- 
iature diocese. In that case, I ought to be, 
in one sense, a bishop ; but then, where shall 
I find my staff of clergy 

"Ah [ you think there are none willing to 
work under your direction, Mr. Morrison. 
I hope you are mistaken, if you really 
suppose that to be the case. You could or- 
ganize a band of earnest laborers in this par- 
ish, I am very sure, if you feel in need of 
their services.'^ 

" Do you think so ? Ah ! here comes our 
worthy friend, Mr. Bowen,*' as the good old 
gentleman appeared at the gate ; " you took 
us quite by surprise, my dear sir. We were 



VISIT FROM THE MORPwTSONS. S3 

talking so earnestly, that you were close 
upon us before we percieived you." 

"I heard nothing," replied the Squire; 
" but you were hatching some dreadful plot, 
I'll engage ; so you had better confess at 
once, before you are found out." 

" Yes, we are plotting," said Mr. Morrison, 

Church matters, as nsual. Do you know 
this parish has just been developed into a 
diocese ? I am coming out bishop, of course, 
but where are my clergy ?" 

^' Well," said Mr. liowen, as our pastor 
paused for a reply, " where are they ? I am 
afraid echo must answer, where .^" 

Why, don't you think," said I, very quick- 
ly, that the laymen of the parish will con- 
sider it a privilege to assist Mr. Morrison in 
any way in w^hich they can be useful ?" 

But in what way can that be done ? I 
thought nothing would do but a parochial 
call, once a month at least, from the clergy- 
man himself." 

This was half aside^ to me, but Mr. Morri- 
son answered : 

" Of course, that would be impossible, in 
a scattered population like ours ; and yet, all 
the people who have no other religious at- 
tachments, should be, in one respect, under 



84 THE emigrant's quest. 



my care. Now, if my lay-ministers would 
take special districts in charge, and report to 
me, say once a month, or oftener if any case 
needed prompt attention, it would certainly 
make me better acquainted with the wants 
of the people at large, than I could become 
without such aid. I believe I shall begin to 
organize my forces at once, by appointing 
Messrs. Bowen and Grey to this school dis- 
trict, and requesting a report from them on 
the first of next month.^' 

" We are expected to perform all the lay 
duties of deacons, I suppose?" said Mr. 
Bowen. 

" Exactly so : — ' To search out the sick, 
poor, and impotent people of the parish ; to 
intimate their estates, names, and places 
where they dwell, unto the curate ; to fash- 
ion your own lives, and the lives of your 
families, according to the doctrines of Christ ; 
and to make both yourselves and them, as 
much as in you lieth, wholesome examples of 
the flock of Christ.' These are duties which 
should command themselves to the con- 
sciences of all Christians, my friends, and 
such as there caii be no impropriety in your 
undertaking to perform for the good of the 
Church. I think to these duties may be 



VISIT FROM THE MORRISONS. 85 



added the holding of lay services in some of 
the school-houses around. Our parishes re- 
quire outposts." 

"Seriously,'' said Mr. Bo wen, "I think 
such a plan might work wxU in our parish ; 
and, as soon as you have arranged the details 
to your satisfaction, you may be sure of the 
active co-operation of your parishioners, in 
carrying your schemes into effect." 

" Thank you, most heartily. I will lose no 
time in preparing a working plan ; and may 
God bless our endeavors to His glory, and 
the salvation of many souls !" 

" Do you know," continued Mr. Mon^ison, 
after a pause, "I have been speculating a 
little on your family, Mr. Grey ? I have 
thought, that my parish might furnish some- 
thing more than under-workmen in the 
Lord's vineyard. Edward is a youth w^hose 
talents and turn of mind seem to mark him 
out as particularly fitted for the duties of the 
Ministry." 

A thrill ran through me at the thought, 
and I felt that our pastor w^as right, though 
I should hardly have had the courage to 
make such a discovery myself. It seemed 
like presumption, in me, to think of a son of 
mine as a sworn priest of the Most High. 
8 



86 



THE EMIGEAot's quest. 



^' Would you feel willing to give up your 
first-bom to such a duty ?" asked Mr. Mor- 
rison. 

"If he desires it, and it is in my power to 
forward his wishes, I should think it wrong 
to oppose his obeying a divine call." 

" I am almost sure that it is the great de- 
sire of his life — ^imconsciously, perhaps ; as he 
probably has never thought of such a wish 
being gratified, and is too modest to think 
that his talents could fit him for extensive 
usefulness. That is a point on which others 
can judge better than one's self, or the mem- 
bers of one's own family ; and it is on that 
account, that I have taken the liberty of 
broaching the subject to you. "With your 
permission, I will go in and find out Mrs. 
Grey's opinion." 

"I suppose we shall, some day^ have a 
chance of seeing a clergyman who does his 
duty," said Mr. Bowen, in a tone of good- 
humored raillery as our worthy rector left 
us ; " or, perhaps, the infiuence of climate or 
circumstances may prove too strong, even for 
Edward." 

" My dear sir, I have long ago retracted, in 
a great measure, my first unjust opinions of 
the American clergy. It is true, they do not 



VISIT FROM THE MORRISONS. 



87 



give themselves up, body and soul, to the dis- 
charge of the duties of their station, as I 
have known their brethren at home to do, 
but I can now see that they have trials of 
the most wearing description, of which our 
parochial clergy have no experience. 

" For example ?" said my friend, inquir- 
ingly. 

" For example : the uncertainty of income, 
and its depending on the likes and dislikes 
of individuals ; and the consequent neces- 
sity of having a church filled with those who 
are able to contribute to its support, rather 
than w^ith those who, in other lands, are the 
principal objects of a pastor's care — the poor 
of the flock." 

" That is an evil that the systems of en- 
dowed livings and free churches will eradi- 
cate," said Mr. Bowen ; " but at present, it 
is a day of small things with us, and I, at 
least, cannot hope to see ' the good time com- 
ing.' Edward may, and may contribute to 
bring it about, too." 

" Then there is the custom of frequent 
change," continued I, " which never, in the 
end, works well either for pastor or people. 
It is impossible, that the rector of a parish, 
who expects to remain for only a few years, 



88 



THE EMIGEAXT'S QUEST. 



can lay out any extensive plans of usefulness 
among liis people. There is no nse in plan- 
ning what he will not be suftered to remain 
long enough to carry out." 

" How different," said Mr. Bowen, " from 
what the state of things might be, if a cler- 
gyman could enter on a charge, feeling that 
it was probably to be his life-long work, and 
that he must be deeply responsible for the 
well-being of a people amongst whom he is 
to pass his days, as their teacher and minis- 
ter in sacred things. I am afraid this eyil is 
beyond remedy, in our case. I have no 
doubt, neighbor, that in your own country, 
changes would be frequent if they could be 
made at the will of the parish." 

In one respect, however, the American 
clergyman has a less arduous task than the 
English," I resumed, after a pause ; " the 
country parson finds so many secular duties 
attaching to his position, that, to discharge 
them rightly, he needs a great deal of busi- 
ness tact, quickness and decision of character, 
and a capability of governing, that is less re- 
quisite here, where the spiritual needs of the 
parish are all that he is required to attend 
to." 

''Perhaps, on the whole, the scales are 



VISIT FKOM THE MORRISONS. 



89 



more evenly balanced than we supposed, at a 
first glance," said Mr. Bowen ; " but I am 
still inclined to think, that the English cler- 
gyman would find himself a little the better 
ofi*. However, if Edward, ten years hence, 
is of the contrary opinion, I shall be better 
pleased than if he should agree with me. 
He is a dear, good boy, Mr. Grey, and I 
hope his future career will be equally useful 
and happy." 

" I am happier than I ever hoped to be," 
said my wife that night, after we had held a 
long conversation with Edward ; " I can now 
see how good may come out of evil. It al- 
most broke my heart to leave home, and I 
never dreamed the time would come when I 
should be glad of it. But it has come now. 
It has always been one of my castles in the 
air, that Edward should be a clergyman, and 
you know that would have been next to im- 
possible, situated as we were." 

" Very true," said I ; " most likely he 
would have become a Methodist preacher, 
like your brother Thomas." 

" Yes, most likely. Do you suppose, Ed- 
ward, that poor Tom would have left the 
Church, if he could have worked for it as he 
is working for the Wesleyans ? I have often 
8* 



90 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



heard him say, that he loves the Church as 
much as Wesley ever did, and that he holds 
all its doctrines, and admires all its usages." 

If he were to come to this country, he 
would return to the Church," said I ; " there 
would not be the shadow of a reason why he 
should not." 

" I believe I will write to him about it," 
said my wife, in a sleepy tone ; " he and Ed- 
ward — wouldn't it be nice ? they may help 
each other so much ! — out West — ^perhaps — 
on the prairies" — and I am inclined to think 
she was dreaming, before she had fairly 
closed a sentence which ended with the 
words, " missionary bishop." 



CHAPTEE IX. 




CONCLrSION. 

T is now nearly a year since Edward 
entered into Holy Orders, as a 
Deacon of the American branch of 
onr own dear birth-right Church ; 
and now it may be supposed, that we have 
fully succeeded in finding the spiritual rest- 
ing place, of whose identity we were, at first, 
so doubtful. 

It may be thought, by some, that there is 
not much connection between the means and 
the end, and that I have not given any very 
cogent reasons for our coming to this conclu- 
sion. I do not pretend to have written a 
logical treatise, but only a simple little narra- 
tive of some circumstances in the history of 
a plain, unpretending household ; and it ap- 
pears to me, in penning them down, that 
others may find, as we have done, that the 
best way to enjoy the privileges and comforts 
of the Church, is to identify ourselves with her 



92 



THE emigrant's QUEST. 



interests, and live up to her precepts as far 
as possible. If we hold ourselves aloof, we 
are likely to think we have found only a cold 
step-mother, instead of our own loving, cher- 
ishing parent ; and, missing the social friend- 
liness, and the constant pastoral care, to 
which we have been accustomed, we soon 
regard ourselves, and are regarded by others, 
as strangers in our Father's house. 

Perhaps our American brethren might do 
more to aid us in making ourselves at home 
amongst them. Had not Mr. Bowen advised 
me as a brother might have done, things 
would have gone very diflerently with my 
family. But we must have patience, if we 
are neglected and slighted for a few years. 
In a change of situations, we might have 
found it difficult to care for the stranger, es- 
pecially where there were unpleasant pecu- 
liarities, and no particular claims to regard 
on account of wealth, or talents, or connec- 
tions. It is very difficult to carry out in 
practice, the Apostolic rule, " Honor all 
men." It is much easier to be critical and 
supercilious, and to forget that those whose 
habits, and manners, and modes of speech, 
differ from ours, may yet have perceptions as 



CONCLUSION. 



93 



quick, feelings as keen, and souls as valuable, 
as our own. 

It is often, too, that one is disappointed. 
In showing kindness to all strangers, and es- 
pecially to those who come from the land of 
our fore-fathers, that land through which the 
blessings of religion descended to us, how 
often we find, that the objects of our interest 
prove to be such as we could not wish for the 
associates of our families, and mortify, as 
W'cll as grieve us, by sinking from one stage 
of degradation to another. Perhaps such 
may be our experience, in nine cases out of 
ten, but if the tenth prove otherwise, surely 
we have encouragement enough. We are 
not to expect every effort to be crowned with 
immediate success (though no earnest, no de- 
vout endeavor will ever entirely fail), but if 
we withhold our exertions, and one of 
Christ's little ones suffers harm through our 
neglect or contempt, it were better for us 
that a mill-stone were hanged about our 
neck, and we were drowned in the depths of 
the sea ! 



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